


Betrayal Never Comes From Your Enemies

by Newrose12



Series: Hello John [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 20:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2706026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Newrose12/pseuds/Newrose12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU of the end of The Sign of Three and complete AU of His Last Vow, things are switched around, it's not Sherlock who goes after 'Lady Smallwood'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Betrayal Never Comes From Your Enemies

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so be aware, this is AU starting at the end of The Sign of Three, Mary is not pregnant at the end of that episode (it will come up later), but I've completely swung this around and put everyone in different places in His Last Vow, why? Because I can and I enjoy it. I don't make any money off of it (just in case) but I do like putting my own twists on the story lines. Let me know what you think.

"They're still here," Sherlock said, looking up towards where the stairs led to Magnussen's office and stood to follow, but Jeanine was awake gripped his hand.

"Don't go," she said, pleading and Sherlock looked to John who smiled back at him.

"I'll check," he said and stood.

"Take this," Sherlock said and pressed his gun into his hand and John rolls his eyes, not surprised that the man had brought it along. "Be careful," he warned and John nodded before he stood and walked up the stairs, following the smell of Clair De Le Lune. Hearing voices, John made his way through to a room behind Mangussen's office and stepped inside, taking in the scene in front of him. Magnussen was on his knees with his hands behind his head and a woman was standing above him, dressed all in black, holding a gun to his head.

"Lady Smallwood," John said, stepping into the room after he tucked his gun in the back of his pants, not wanting to provoke her, "I don't know what this man is holding over your head, but we can work it out."

"Lady Smallwood?" Magnussen responded, glancing between the two standing people, a smirk on his lips, "that is not Lady Smallwood Dr. Watson."

"What?" John asked and stared in horror as the woman turned to him, her gun still raised, but now pointed at him. "Mary?" he asked incredulously.

"You're not supposed to be here," she said, her voice shaking and her eyes pleaded for him understand.

"And you are?" John demanded, waiving a hand between his wife and the man on his knees

"You don't know what this man has done John," she cried, using the hand that wasn't holding the gun to gesture towards Magnussen, "how many lives he's destroyed, how many people he's killed. He doesn't deserve to live!"

"And you're the one that's going to kill him," John accused and his hand went towards his gun.

"Don't," she said, raising the gun slightly.

"Are you going to kill me?" he demanded, holding up his hand and keeping it in plain sight.

"John," she said, the gun lowering slightly, "you don't understand what he has on me, what he could do to me, to us!"

"Yes, because _he's_ the one that is going to ruin us," John shot back.

"He can't live," Mary said, her voice pleading for him to understand.

"And I won't let you kill him."

"John, please, just walk away," she pleaded but John shook his head and took a step towards her.

"I can't Mary, I can't walk away and let you kill him, if he dies you'll go to prison."

"Stop, stop or I will shoot you."

"You'll shoot your husband?" John asked and took another step but jerked to a stop when pain blossomed in his side. "Mary?" he asked and glanced down at his side where blood was starting to seep onto his shirt.

"I'm sorry John," she said.

* * *

" _You're a doctor," Sherlock said and John looks around and finds himself back at 221B Baker Street, "in fact, an army doctor."_

" _Yes," John replies and Sherlock smirks at him._

" _Any good?" Sherlock goes on and John knows he's had this conversation with the other man, it was one of their first._

" _Damn good, but you know that, why are we here?" he asked, he could have sworn he was... actually, he wasn't sure where he was, it's a bit fuzzy._

" _Because I need your help with a case," Sherlock said and takes a seat in his chair._

" _Sherlock, Mary," he begins but stops, there is something he needs to remember about Mary, but his brain is still fuzzy and won't give up its secrets._

" _This will be quick," Sherlock promises and John sighs, ignoring a slight pain in his side and turns his attention fully to the other man._

" _Fine," John said and takes a seat in his chair, grimacing again at the pain._

" _A man is shot in the side, he was looking his shooter straight in the eye when the shot was fired, what do you determine first, before anything else?"_

" _Really Sherlock?" John said, exasperation coloring his voice, "you couldn't figure this out on your own? I would have thought you'd memorized the medical dictionary."_

" _Humor me, I would like a doctor's opinion," the other man counters and steeples his fingers together as he watches John._

" _Fine," he said with a sigh, leaning back to take the pressure off of the pain in his side. "First you need to determine if there are two holes."_

" _Two holes?"_

" _An entry and exit wound."_

" _And if there is only one?"_

" _Then he's lucky, the bullet is still in him, it acts a bit like a cork on a bottle of champagne, it's keeping the blood from rushing out."_

" _What if he were to fall?" Sherlock asked and John runs a hand over his face, realizing he is sweating, but can't imagine why._

" _That can be dangerous," he said, blinking darkness from his vision, "if he falls forward onto the injured side, he could dislodge the bullet and bleed out."_

" _Hmm," is the response as he watches John for a moment, "John," he goes on and John has to blink his eyes to focus them again, "one hole or two?"_

_John stares at Sherlock for a moment, and it takes another to realize that they are not at 221B, but in Magnussen's office and the memory rushes back. Glancing down, he pulls his hand away from his side to find blood coating it and his eyes fly back to his friend, wondering why he's not helping._

" _John, focus, one hole or two?" Sherlock demands, his tone sharp and a bit panicky._

" _How-?" he starts to ask, but his tongue doesn't want to cooperate._

" _Look behind you, what do you see?" he asked and John turns his head, there is a mirror behind him that is intact._

" _One hole," he mumbles and Sherlock nods his head when he turns back to him._

" _Very good, John, so you need to fall back," he reasons, "John!" is another sharp and more panicked reprimand when John drifts off. His focus, as little as he can muster up, snaps back to the other man. "You need to fall_ back. Now _John!"_

* * *

He grunts when his back hits the carpet and darkness is swooping in, threatening to take him, but Sherlock is suddenly there, looking more panicked than he had a moment ago.

"Hold on John," is the last thing he hears before the darkness engulfs him.

* * *

Sherlock climbed into the ambulance and refused to leave, he will not let John out of his sight, his eyes trained on the other man the entire trip to the hospital. Once there, they try to stop him but he pleaded with one of the nurses and she lead him to a side room where he could watch.

Sometime later, Lestrade is by his side, handing him a cup of coffee, one that he ignores, his eyes still glued to the man on the operating table. When Lestrade asked him how it's going, he said fine, but doesn't say that they have already lost John twice, once in the ambulance and once on the table.

They watch as the machine flat lines again and the movements of the doctors and nurses become frantic as they start chest compressions and bagging him. When the heart monitor refuses to start it's peaking line again, they watch as those inside the room stop.

"Why are they stopping?" Sherlock demands and Lestrade opens his mouth but Sherlock repeats his question, realization dawning as the doctor in charge steps back, shaking his head sadly.

Lestrade knows what Sherlock is going to do five seconds before he does, five seconds after it looks like the doctors and nurses have given up on saving John Watson's life. He knows he should stop him, but he's not quick enough and the other man is suddenly inside the room.

The doctors and nurses turn in surprise when Sherlock pushes his way inside, yelling at them to keep trying. One doctor and three nurses move forward to try to stop him, another doctor reaches for the phone to call security, and Lestrade has followed his friend to try to do damage control. Everyone is yelling, those trying to restrain Sherlock are having some trouble, and it's as if everyone takes a breath at once and in that one moment, they hear something, a 'beep'. Everyone in the room turns, sure they are mistaken, but then the noise happens again and the heart monitor starts up again, slowly but steadily indicating a heart beat in John's body.

Sherlock nearly falls to the ground when the doctor and nurses let him go to rush back to their patient, and it's Lestrade, not security, that leads Sherlock out of the operating room.

* * *

"Sherlock," a voice brought said man back to the present, jerking awake from a light doze, his eyes searching and quickly finding John still in his hospital bed.

"Lestrade?" he asked, looking up at the DI who is standing over him.

"Didn't mean to startle you," Lestrade said, and tossed a bundle on to his lap.

"What is this?" he asked, looking down at the clothes that he recognized as his, a shaving kit, toothbrush and toothpaste on top.

"You need a shower, you're starting to stink up the place and we're getting complaints."

"It's only been a day," Sherlock said, swiping a hand over his face.

"Sherlock," Lestrade replied after a long moment of studying him, "John was shot two days ago."

"Two-" he started to say and looked back to the man on the bed.

"Come on," Lestrade said, pulling him to his feet.

"I'm not leaving," Sherlock protested and the other man pushed him towards the bathroom that is connected to the hospital room

"I figured that, there's a shower in there, use it," he said and pushed Sherlock through the bathroom door and closed it behind him.

When Sherlock was done and changed into his clean clothes, he exited the bathroom to find Lestrade talking to Anderson.

"What are you doing here?" he asked as he went to sit down in the chair he had barely left in the last three days.

"I'm here to help," Anderson replied and Sherlock protested when Lestrade stopped him from sitting.

"Nope," he said, "we're going to get something to eat."

""I'm not leaving John," Sherlock protested and tried to pull from the DI's grip.

"You've barely eaten in the last three days, you're going with me to the cafeteria, Anderson will be here, if anything happens, they have our numbers, they'll let us know."

"No," Sherlock protested again, eyes trained on John, "if something happens..."

"Sherlock," Lestrade stopped and looked at him seriously, "you're not going to do him any good if you end up in hospital yourself." They stared at each other for a long minute before Sherlock's shoulders drooped and he nodded.

"Twenty minutes," he replied and Lestrade nodded.

"That's all I'm asking for."

"Call me if anything happens," Sherlock said, glaring at Anderson.

"I swear," was the reply.

Sherlock was startled out of his musings five minutes later when Lestrade set a tray down in front of him full of food.

"Eat," the older man demanded, pointing at the tray and Sherlock picked up an apple. "Ok, talk," the other man went on when they had eaten in silence for a few minutes.

"What do you mean?" he asked, having almost forgotten the other man was there.

"You've been in your head for three days, you have to have something, tell me what it is."

"I know who shot him," he explained and the other man sighed.

"Of course you do, who was it?"

"You're not going to like it," Sherlock warned and Lestrade rolled his eyes.

"When do I ever?" he demanded.

"Mary."

"Mary who?" Lestrade asked and Sherlock shot him a dirty look.

"Watson."

"His wife?" Lestrade asked incredulously, "you're saying that John's wife shot him? Sherlock, that is the craziest idea you've ever come to me with, and you've come up with some crazy ones."

"It was her," Sherlock insisted and Lestrade sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.

"Prove it."

"When I first met her, she was lying, I didn't know what about at the time, but she was hiding something. When John was drugged and placed under that bonfire, she received a message from a supposed random number and recognized it as a skip code, normal people won't recognize what that is from a random message. She has an astonishing memory and she wears Fluer De Le Lune."

"What does perfume have to do with anything?"

"She wears it, when we first arrived, I recognized it and thought it was Lady Smallwood, she also wears it, but it was Mary," he said with conviction.

"Ok," Lestrade said, sitting forward and bracing his arms on the table, "you're stressed, I get that, but you can't go around making wild accusations like that. What would John think of that?"

"He's actually the one who turned me on to the idea in the first place."

"What?" the other man demanded, feeling a headache coming on.

"When he woke up, he said Mary."

"Wait, when did he wake up?"

"On the operating table, just for a moment, but he said Mary, very clearly, might I add," Sherlock pointed out and Lestrade ran a hand over his face.

"God, it's the Pink Lady all over again," he muttered, "Sherlock, of course he said his wife's name, it's his wife!"

"And just like the Pink Lady, he was giving me a clue."

"You need to stop," Lestrade said, watching the other man wearily, "you've been stuck in that chair for three days, you're mind is running in circles-"

"There is nothing wrong with my mind," Sherlock snapped and Lestrade opened his mouth to argue but just then his phone rang and across the table, so did Sherlock's.

"This is Detective Inspector Lestrade," he said, picking up, "he what?!" he cried and looked up at Sherlock who was nearly out the door already.

* * *

"Mary," was the first thing that left John Watson's lips when he awoke from a three days rest and with that, his memory came flooding back, and he sat up straight, looking around him. He recognized the room as a hospital room and he was alone. Groaning, he pressed a hand to his side where he had been shot and took several deep breaths which turned out to be painful. They had had to revive him then, he was sporting a few cracked, if not broken, ribs from where they had done CPR. Looking around again, he knew he had to find his wife so he reached down and pulled the IV's from his arm, hissing as they came free and pulled the heart monitor from his finger, reaching out to turn off the alarm when it started to ring. Stopping, he listened to see if anyone had been alerted but when he didn't hear anything he turned and swung his legs over the side, hissing again at the pain. Standing, he had to reach out to steady himself but looked around for some clothing.

Across the room he saw his trousers and shoes on top of a dresser there and made his way over. Picking up his shoes, he dropped them on the floor to put them on and picked up his trousers. Knowing that it would probably be a bad idea to try to pull them on, he looked around again. In the chair next to his bed, Sherlock's long coat was draped across the back, telling him that the other man had been there, though where he was now, John wasn't sure, but he was glad he wasn't there to try to stop him. Moving to the chair, he picked up the coat and pulled it on painfully, the movement pulling at the stitches and his ribs. The coat was long on Sherlock, and on John, it nearly reached his feet and he buttoned it up over his hospital gown and turned up the collar.

Opening the door, he glanced down the hallway before stepping out and closing the door behind him. He made his way towards the front, trying to walk normally and nodding to anyone he passed and was grateful he made it outside without anyone stopping him. There was a taxi waiting and he climbed in, giving directions to his house and leaned back against his seat.

"You alright mate?" the cabbie asked and John nodded.

"Fine, thank you," he said and closed his eyes.

"Sir," the cabbie called and John opened his eyes and realized they had arrived, he must have dozed off, "we're here."

"Thank you," John said, reaching in to Sherlock's pockets, finding the other man's wallet thankfully and handed over the fare.

"Are you sure you don't want me to take you back to the hospital?" the cabbie asked before he took the money, "I will, no charge. You don't look so good."

"No, thank you," John said and smiled weakly before climbing out, ignoring the cabbie as he hesitated before leaving. John stared up at the house in front of him, it was dark, no light or life came from within Wincing, he straightened and moved towards the house, pulling Sherlock's keys out and opening the door.

"Mary?" he called as soon as the door was open, but there was no answer. Their bedroom was on the second floor and he was contemplating how much pain he would be in if he tried them, when the light came on, blinding him momentarily.

"John?" he heard her voice before he saw her and when his vision cleared, he found her at the top of the stairs a gun in her hand, hanging at her side.

"Going to shoot me again?" he demanded and she looked down at the gun before tucking it away at her back.

"What are you doing here John?" she asked, taking a couple of steps down towards him, "you need to be in the hospital."

"No, what I need to be doing," he snapped, trying hard not to sway on his feet, "is finding out why my wife shot me. Why it seems our entire relationship is a lie."

"John, you should sit down," she said, reaching out when she reached the bottom of the stairs, but he pulled away, nearly losing his balance in the process. "If not for me, then for you, please." Glaring at her, he moved into the small sitting room to their right and took a seat in the chair that was facing the door, where she was now standing.

"I'm sitting, start talking," he demanded.

* * *

"What the hell happened Anderson?" Lestrade yelled as he, Sherlock and the other man, along with several doctors and nurses tried to figure out how John had escaped.

"I went to the bathroom, I wasn't gone more than five minutes, I swear!" Anderson defended himself.

"Sherlock, what are you thinking?" Lestrade asked, turning to him.

"He left on his own, my coat is missing, I can't imagine that if anyone forced him to leave they would take it with them."

"Alright, so if he got up and walked out on his own, where did he go?"

"Home," was the reply and everyone turned to look at him, "he's looking for Mary," Sherlock went on, looking pointedly at the DI.

"Excuse me," a new voice said and they all turned to see a nurse there with a middle aged man in the doorway, "this man might be able to help you."

"My name is Frank, I just picked up a man from here about thirty minutes ago, he wasn't looking too good, I dropped him off, but I was worried about him so I came back to let someone know."

"Where did you take him?" Sherlock demanded and wasn't surprised at all when the man rattled off John's home address. He knew he didn't need to say 'I told you so' to Lestrade, the look he gave him did it for him.

"We need to get an ambulance over there now," one of the doctors said and Sherlock agreed.

"If what you're saying is true," Lestrade said, following Sherlock as he went to leave, "then we need to get my men there as well. John could be in more danger."

"No, he's in no danger," Sherlock said, they followed the cabbie out and he asked the man to take him to John's house.

"But if he's with Mary-"

"John was not her intended target, he was in her way, she has no reason to want to hurt him again."

"Then how can you be sure she'll be there?" the DI asked.

"Because," Sherlock said, climbing into the cab, "she still loves John, she wanted to make sure he was going to live." With that he shut the door and Lestrade turned as soon as they left to gather his men to head over to John's place.

* * *

"Why are you still here?" John asked, watching his wife carefully, she was still standing in the doorway and looked ready to bolt.

"I needed to know you were all right," she explained and he snorted and regretted it immediately.

"Funny, with you shooting me, I thought you couldn't give two shits about me," he said bitterly and she flinched.

"You weren't meant to be there John," she tried to reason and he shook his head, regretting that as well when the room swam.

"I don't want to hear it," he said, holding up a hand, ignoring how it shook, "what I want to know is, what are we going to do about this now?"

"I'm going to finish what I started John, you can't stop me," she said, trying to sound reasonable.

"You're willing to throw us away to do that? Because, honestly, if you go after Mangussen again, we're done. Even if you don't, I'm not sure I can get over this, but I'd be willing to try."

"John, he has to be stopped," she said, trying to make him understand.

"Are you being paid to kill him, are you some sort of contract killer?"

"No, it's personal."

"Is he the first person you've killed or tried to kill?" he demanded and when she didn't respond he nodded.

"You wouldn't like the real me," she said a few moments later.

"I think I'm beginning to see that," he responded and rested his head against the back of the chair, it was getting harder to hold it up.

"You've killed people John, you were a soldier, hell you killed that cabbie," she tried to reason and he felt his anger rise.

"Like you said, I was a soldier, if I killed it was because I had no other choice, because I was staring down the wrong end of a gun. I killed that cabbie to save Sherlock's life," he snapped and tried to ignore the fact that he was panting by the end.

"Right, Sherlock, do you think he's so innocent?" she shot back. "Do you think that he left any of Moriarty's network alive? You can't honestly tell me that you believe his hands are clean."

"Sherlock," was all he responded with and she looked confused for a moment before said man answered.

"Yes John?" Mary spun to find Sherlock standing behind her, eyes narrowed at her and not bothered by the gun now pointed at him.

"In my office, locked cabinet to the right of the bookshelf, there's morphine, please get it for me," John went on.

"Of course," was the response and the other man turned to walk down the hall.

"You can go now," John said and Mary turned back to him, "you can go," he repeated, "I'd suggest it in fact, Lestrade probably isn't far behind him."

"Right, I can go because Sherlock is here," she said, her voice holding a bitter note, "I never could compete with him."

"Never compete with him? It was never a competition Mary," he pointed out and she rolled her eyes.

"It was always a competition," she said and moved out of the way as Sherlock moved into the room, "and, though it seems I was out front for a while, I still lost in the end." Her head turned when she heard sirens and stepped into the room.

"You may have to restart my heart," John said to Sherlock, "I'm pretty sure I'm bleeding internally, please tell me those sirens include an ambulance."

"They do," Sherlock said picking up a syringe and they glanced up when Mary set something down on the table next to them.

"That is me," she said and they looked to find a USB there with something written on it, "everything, all of it. I am sorry it came to this John," she said and he looked at her, and she could see the pain in his eyes.

"So am I," he said and turned back to Sherlock. Mary took one last look around, and biting back tears, left the house for the last time.

* * *

John looked up when a paper landed in his lap to find Sherlock standing there before glancing down, the headline read 'C M Magnussen Found Dead in Home".

"Was it her?" he asked, looking back at the other man who shrugged.

"No idea, no prints, nothing on security camera's, professionally done, in and out cleanly."

"Did you give the USB to Mycroft?" John asked, tossing the paper onto the chair next to him.

"No," Sherlock said.

"Why not?"

"Because you still love her and I don't think you want my brother going after her with everything he has." There was a long, but comfortable silence between them. "I've moved you back to the flat," Sherlock spoke up suddenly as John started to drift off.

"Sherlock," he tried to protest but the other man held up a hand.

"You need someone to look after you once your out of here."

"Are you volunteering?" John said with a snort.

"No, I'm volunteering Mrs. Hudson."

"Sherlock, she doesn't even live there anymore," John pointed out, "and I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"John, it's for my peace of mind," Sherlock said after a few moments and John is surprised to see fear in his friends eyes. "I watched them bring you back from death three times, and I know what I did to you was so much worse, I..." he broke off and looked to the other side of the room, his jaw clenched. "When we thought we'd lost you to that bonfire, and then to walk into Magnussen's office and find you on the floor... I just need to know your safe and recovering."

"All right," John said, smiling at the other man when he turned back, "I'll move back in, I'm not sure I could live in that house anyway."

"Good, it's settled then," Sherlock said, "you'll be out of here in a couple of days, barring any more escape attempts and we'll get you settled in."

"Sounds good Sherlock," John said with a smile and a shake of his head.

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't get me wrong, I really like Mary, and I thought it was a bastard thing to do to have her almost kill Sherlock, so I made it worse! But I promise I do like her and I'm glad she will be back, I just had to make my own angsty twist to things because damnit, John didn't deserve to almost lose Sherlock twice, so I made it like Sherlock almost lost him instead. I'm a terrible person, I know.


End file.
